The Potions Master's Problem
by WrittenWord1
Summary: Dumbledore asked Severus Snape to protect Harry Potter. But what if the Potions Master decided to get to know his enemy's son? Would he be able to hate the sight of The Boy Who Lived?
1. Chapter 1

Severus Snape was doodling. It was not his usual staff meeting activity, preferring to count how many times he could tap his fingers against his trouser leg between Dumbledore's eye-twinkles. However, during this particular meeting, he needed more intensive distraction. There was no particular pattern to the pictures, ranging from chess pieces to herbs, all marching around the border of the meeting agenda.

"The students will arrive this evening, as usual," Dumbledore was saying. "Minerva will meet the first years as they come off the boats, and walk them into the Great Hall. After the Sorting Ceremony and the banquet, I'd like the Heads of House to stay at the head table for a few minutes. We'll need to have a discussion."

"About what?" Filius Flitwick was perched on a tall stool that made it easier for him to make eye contact with the other professors.

Severus rolled his eyes, but didn't look up from his drawing. It was a wonder, really, that any of these people became teachers. "I'd imagine," he said dryly, "that we will be discussing our _new celebrity_."

"He'll certainly be a Gryffindor," Minerva said confidently. "He's James and Lily's son."

"Oh no," Severus said, sarcasm dripping from his tongue. "Let us fight over him. Shall we arm wrestle?"

Albus cleared his throat. "We will know in a matter of hours. And when we do, we will be able to devise a plan for managing the attention he is sure to draw."

Snape pressed his lips together, striding out the door as soon as the meeting was dismissed. Crumpling his parchment into a ball, he tossed it into the bin next to his desk before sitting in his chair. He rubbed a hand over his face, the tossing and turning of the night before coming back in a rush. Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts. Harry _James_ Potter was coming to Hogwarts.

Severus opened the top drawer of his desk, and ran his finger along the seam at the back. Finding the groove, he removed the back panel and pulled out a stack of photographs, tied with a piece of twine. They were mostly Muggle pictures, some black and white from what seemed like a century before. But regardless of movement or color, his mind filled in the subject's dancing green eyes and barely-tamed red hair. Lily Evans. Lily _Potter_. Severus tucked the photographs away again.

"Her son lives," Albus had said to him, that Halloween night ten years before. "He has her eyes, precisely her eyes. You remember the shape and color of Lily Evans's eyes, I am sure?"

Severus put his head in his hands, that moment flooding back, the haze of pain hanging heavy around him. That night. That awful night.

"_You know how and why she died. Make sure it was not in vain. Help me protect Lily's son."_

"_He does not need protection. The Dark Lord has gone—_

"_The Dark Lord will return, and Harry Potter will be in terrible danger when he does."_

Severus felt like his lunch was about to make a reappearance. He'd visited. Once a year. Perhaps _visited_ was the wrong word. He'd stalked the Dursley household once a year. Potter was a skinny clone of his father. With Lily's eyes. Lily's damn eyes.

It was all he could do to glance into the windows of the house in Surrey, assure that the boy was alive, and disappear for another year. He was uncomfortable with the emotions of those visits. The intense feelings they brought, pain over loss and fury over past feuds. A part of him wanted to snap up the child, the owner of the eyes. But it was the feeling of a young child concerning a friend's toy, surely. Certainly Severus Snape simply wanted to be in possession of Lily's eyes, not the boy himself. Not when those eyes were wrapped in a Potter-shaped package.

He could barely handle seeing the brat for a few minutes, and now, in a matter of hours, the boy would be living under the same roof. For the next seven years. Severus would see the younger wizard every day. And of course there was a chance that the boy would end up in Slytherin. Severus considered tearing out his hair at the thought. He considered paying off the Sorting Hat. What would a hat want? His mind swirled with ridiculous thoughts of button payments shoved through the rip in the Hat.

He was startled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door. "What?" He snapped, straightening.

"That's a fine way to answer the door," Minerva closed the door behind her. "Albus said you went to check on Harry last month?"

"I sent Hagrid," Severus said tightly. "There was a problem with his letter."

"But everything has been resolved?"

Severus frowned. "You'll get your new Lion, Minerva."

"That isn't what I was worried about," Minerva said, but was unable to hide her smile at the thought of Harry Potter in her House. "Did you notice the address on his letter?"

"Surrey is hardly cause for worry," Severus remarked, closing the inkbottle on his desk.

"I wasn't referring to _Surrey_," Minerva said impatiently. "Did you not see that his letter was meant to find him in a cupboard?"

Severus raised an eyebrow slightly. "Potter's family has provided him with shelter and food," he said calmly. "The form of that shelter is of no concern to me."

"You'd allow them to treat him poorly?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "The boy doesn't need to live in a palace," he said, irritated by the length of the conversation. "A rosy childhood is certainly not essential."

He busied himself with his roster of returning students, and Minerva took her cue to leave, shaking her head and muttering about men with clouded minds.

When the door closed behind her, Severus dropped his forehead into his hands again, the list of students forgotten. He knew about the cupboard. Of course he knew. He'd seen Petunia's oaf of a husband throw the boy into the small room under the stairs once on his yearly visit. He couldn't say that he enjoyed seeing Lily's eyes treated that way, but there were no other options. The blood wards were the strongest safeguards, short of adopting the child himself. Severus Snape was certainly not cut out to be a father, especially to mini-Potter.

The boy wasn't being starved or beaten, Severus rationalized. He'd promised to keep the brat alive, not to make sure that he was being tucked into bed at night. It wasn't the Potion Master's problem. Really.

*S*S*

Severus looked past Quirrell's turban— ridiculous accessory, in Snape's opinion, as the new professor droned on in his stuttering way. Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table, not surprisingly, surrounded by a mess of Weasleys. The boy had piled his plate, a gesture that Severus chose to interpret as gluttony, despite the obvious physical evidence to the contrary.

Potter met his eyes, just for a moment. Snape wanted to look away, pretend that he wasn't looking at the child, but… it was those eyes again. He thought that there must be a support group for people who stare at near strangers because they have the eyes of dead loves.

Severus didn't have time to dwell on the thought for long, however, because when Potter met his eyes, a flash a pain flickered across the boy's face. The younger wizard looked away almost as quickly as he'd looked up at the head table. Did the boy recognize him? He was certain he'd never been seen, lurking around the Dursleys' house. But perhaps he'd appeared, in younger form, in pictures? Petunia was bound to have pictures of her sister, and Severus would have frequented those photographs.

"And, now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore was standing, his arms raised, as if preparing himself to conduct an orchestra.

Severus contemplated using the vial of cyanide that was sewn into the collar of his potions jacket. It was a hold over from the war, a last resort if he found himself in a position that would compromise his perilous mission. He gritted his teeth and looked at the Headmaster. Perhaps he should stop carrying the little bit of poison. With a job like this, the risk of using it in a moment of profound irritation was too great.

He adopted a bored posture, deciding that it was too early in the school year for suicide. In addition, his death might get in the way of his promise. He watched the new Gryffindor as the Great Hall erupted in the school song. The boy was clearly bewildered. Severus supposed that showed at least a bit of intelligence. He must have inherited it from his mother.

He shot a look at the Slytherin table as the students were dismissed, locking eyes with each of the prefects. He'd made his expectations clear before the meal began, but he had learned long ago not to leave the behavior of children to chance.

He was not disappointed. While the other houses rushed out in a flurry of chatter and disarray, the Slytherins filed out behind the prefects, in a quiet and orderly fashion. He flicked open his pocket watch. He had approximately twenty minutes until first year bed check. Standing, he started to step off the dais when Albus ruined his escape plans.

"A Gryffindor," the Headmaster said, smiling at Minerva's triumphant face.

"Shocking," Severus said dryly.

"Severus," Albus said, as if he hadn't spoken. "Have you heard any chatter in your House? Anything we should be concerned with?"

"Nothing but sunshine and light about the Golden Child, I assure you," Severus said, rolling his eyes. "I'll ensure that the truly homicidal students are kept away from Potter."

"It isn't a joke," Minerva frowned. "You know better than anyone—

"Yes, yes." Severus interrupted. "Perhaps you should secure your common room? I plan on doing just that." With that, he strode out of the Hall, making short work of the stairs to the dungeons.

*S*S*

"You cannot keep doing that," Severus said, glaring at Albus who was standing in the living room of his dungeon quarters.

"Doing what?" Dumbledore asked, tilting his head to the side in a way that reminded Severus of the school owls.

"Talking about protecting Potter and then looking at _me_. Our agreement was that no one would know. You promised to keep it a secret."

Dumbledore shook his head. "Keep what is best about you a secret? I did make that promise, I suppose." He looked at the younger wizard. "Now it's time for you to promise me something."

"You mean other than to risk life and limb to protect the boy you think will bring down the Dark Lord when he reemerges?"

Albus smiled fondly. "Get to know the boy, Severus. You may find that Harry has more Lily in him than James."

"Unlikely," Severus frowned.

"Get to know him," Albus said, a little more forcefully. "Consider it an order, if you must."

Severus made a growling noise in his throat, but didn't protest again. This job was getting worse by the moment.

"Could have been a bloody Healer," Severus muttered after closing the door behind his employer. He glanced at his watch again. Midnight. Time to check that upper years were in bed.

He stepped through the inner door that connected his living room with the Slytherin common room. There were still a few seventh years sitting around the fireplace, but that didn't concern him. Most students in their last year were of age, and it seemed silly to quarrel with adults over bedtimes.

The girls' rooms were silent, and the first year boys' dormitory was dark and quiet as well. However, when he approached the second years' room, he distinctly heard an older male voice.

"…think you can do whatever you want. Lights out for second years was two hours ago. Unless you want to visit Snape tonight, you'll settle down."

Severus waited, his arms folded over his chest, until the door opened and Marcus Flint emerged, closing it behind him. The younger wizard looked briefly startled by his Head of House's presence, but recovered quickly. "Hello, Professor."

"Trouble tonight, Mr. Flint?"

"No, sir. Just the second years thinking no one was watching them."

"Amazing that they don't understand minding charms," Severus said dryly. "I appreciate your vigilance, Mr. Flint. However, it's time for you to be in bed yourself. I'll handle any other issues tonight."

"Yes, sir." Flint nodded and went off to the fifth year dormitory with a yawn.

Severus waited a few moments outside the second year door to ensure that Flint's tirade had had its desired effect, then quickly finished his rounds. It was only quarter after twelve, he could sleep an hour or so, in the armchair in this quarters, before the inevitable homesick first year knocked on the door.

He returned to his rooms and settled into the armchair, pulling out the list of new Slytherins. He liked to play a game every year called "First to Crack". It wasn't complicated; he merely guessed which first year would be the first to have some kind of breakdown. He examined the roster. Bulstrode. Crabbe. Davis. He knew Crabbe's father from the Dark Lord's ranks, and he was certain that the boy didn't have the sense it took to be afraid of anything. Goyle was in that same boat. Greengrass. Malfoy.

Severus closed his eyes briefly. Draco would be the first to freak out, but there was no way the boy would come to him. Not a chance. Severus had known Draco since he was born, and a more arrogant toddler the world had never seen. He was certainly easily riled, but he'd never admit it.

Nott. Parkinson. Zabini.

Severus was going to go with Davis. The girl was a half-blood, which wasn't the easiest position in Slytherin House. Her father was a wizard, but not involved in any Dark circles that he knew of.

He knew Parkinson, she often frequented the Malfoy house. She was a simpering girl that hung all over Draco. Lucius had mentioned that the match would be lucrative, though Pansy was a bit loud for his son. Severus had suppressed an eye roll at that, knowing that "loud" in Lucius Malfoy's vernacular meant that the girl was opinionated and, perhaps, smarter than his son.

*S*S*

Severus was right. It was Davis who was inconsolable the first night. It was Jenkins, the sixth year female prefect, that knocked on his door at three o'clock in the morning.

"I'm sorry, sir," the girl apologized. "I swear, I've tried everything."

"It's alright, Miss Jenkins," Severus sighed, following her into the common room where the first year was huddled in an armchair by the fire. "Go on to bed, you have classes in a few hours."

Severus stood beside the fireplace and looked at the crying girl. Comforting children was not is strength. He was, however, excellent at dispensing calming draughts and sleeping potions and hoping that a few days of perspective would stop the emotional nonsense.

"I want to call my mum," Tracey said, around her tears.

"And startle your parents with a middle of the night firecall? Do you want them to think that you've been injured in a sleepwalking accident?"

The child looked up at him, clearly surprised that he wasn't tossing powder into the floo. Severus crossed his arms and looked at her. "It is perfectly natural to have reservations during the first few days. However, your parents have enough to worry about without thinking you are unhappy. So," he pulled two vials from his robe pocket. "This one will help you to calm down, and this one," he held up the white potion, "will help you sleep."

He dosed the girl and sent her back to bed. And people said parenting was hard.

*S*S*

Severus read roll during his first session of Gryffindor-Slytherin Potions class with a sense of doom. When he reached the name he'd been dreading, he paused.

"Ah, _yes_," he said softly, gathering himself. "Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity." He kept his eyes trained on the roster, afraid to look up at the boy with Lily's eyes. Perhaps in a moment, at the end of the list, he would be able to do it. Able to look at the boy.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he said when the roll was finished, dropping the list on his desk and clasping his hands behind his back. He looked at each student, narrowing his eyes slightly at Malfoy's arrogant smirk. He made a mental note to bring that child down a peg at the next private opportunity.

When his gaze landed on Potter, he paused. He did look like Lily. Not just in the eyes. His features were more delicate than his father's. Perhaps…

Severus shook himself. "Potter!" He barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

He watched with satisfaction the confusion that covered Potter's face. Severus hid the smirk, using the satisfaction to help him push down any feelings about the brat's resemblance to his mother. He sneered at the child.

"Tut, tut— fame clearly isn't everything."

He saw Potter's little girlfriend waving her hand around, but the high of showing up Potter in front of everyone carried him into another question.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

The girl was still waving her hand. Severus saw Draco badly covering his snickers behind his hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I don't know," the Potter brat said quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

Severus felt fury surge through his chest. "Sit down," he snapped at the annoying, frizzy-haired Gryffindor. "A point will be taken from Gryffindor for you cheek, Potter." He split the class into pairs, all the time feeling a mix of irritation and vindication. The boy was exactly like his father, no matter what his eyes looked like. The same belief that he could just skate through life.

After narrowly saving the entire class from being attacked by Longbottom's calamitous potion, he rounded on Potter. "Why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point you've lost for Gryffindor."

The look on Potter's face was extremely satisfying.

*S*S*

_Get to know the boy, Severus._

_Get to know the boy, Severus._

Snape woke in a cold sweat from a nightmare involving countless Lily figures speaking in Dumbledore's voice. Over and over. Demanding that he get to know her son.

"Well, you're dead," he said aloud, staring at the ceiling. "You don't get a vote."

_But I killed you_, he thought, unable to say that bit. _It's my fault._ _Everything is_.

He continued to stare at nothing for several moments, his hands balled into fists.

_You could make it right_.

That voice was all Lily, and it came into his head as clear as if she stood beside him. He sat up, looking around, feeling foolish for doing so.

_Get to know the boy, Severus._


	2. Chapter 2

Severus paced Dumbledore's office. "He's mediocre, arrogant as his father, a determined rule-breaker, delighted to find himself famous, attention-seeking and impertinent—

"You see what you expect to see, Severus," Dumbledore said, without looking up from his magazine. "Other teachers report that the boy is modest, likable, and reasonably talented." He flipped a page. "Keep an eye on Quirrell, won't you?"

Severus snorted. "I hate it when you change the subject with no warning."

"I'm sorry," Albus turned another page. "I thought we were finished with the Harry conversation."

Severus rolled his eyes and sat in one of the chairs in front of Dumbledore's desk. "Quirrell is a blundering idiot."

"I sense a darkness about him," Albus said casually. "Did you read that the vault at Gringotts was robbed?"

"Can you consider it robbery if there was nothing to steal?" Severus resigned himself to the topic change.

"Have you finished your task yet? I want to move the Stone while the students are away at the end of the term."

"I can't believe you let Hagrid carry it around at all."

Dumbledore looked disapproving. "_You_ were supposed to do it, when _you_ went to check on Harry."

"I agreed to protect him, not coddle him," Severus said shortly. "Hagrid is more than capable of babysitting."

Albus held up his hand. "All I'm saying is that you cannot quibble with my choice for the mission if you refused to do it yourself."

"I didn't refuse that _particular_ mission," Snape ground out. He stood. "I'll have my task completed by the end of the week." He didn't stay to listen to the Headmaster's response. Instead, he went striding down the corridor, his robes billowing. There was a stack of parchment on his desk waiting to be graded, and Poppy had asked him to brew a batch of Pepperup Potion.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blur of black fabric, and when he turned he saw Potter, streaking toward McGonagall's office window on a broom. "Idiot!" Severus hissed, moving closer to the window, wand drawn.

The boy snatched something out of the air and hurtled back toward the ground, landing without injury. Severus glared down at the Gryffindor. Was the brat trying to give him heart failure? Not that he cared if the boy broke every bone in his body. But he did promise to keep the idiot alive, and it would certainly be easier if he didn't hurl himself around the air without flying lessons.

Usually, Muggle-raised children were more cautious about this world. They didn't jump on brooms and take off toward stone walls. "Like his bloody father," Severus groused, watching Minerva emerge onto the lawn, clearly furious. "Good," the Potions Master thought, scanning the rest of the scene. "Maybe a Potter will finally receive some consequences." He noticed Draco Malfoy, touching down off to the side, clearly trying to avoid detection.

Severus shook his head and continued down the corridor. He had no doubt that Draco was anything but innocent in this situation, but there was a certain amount of well-concealed mischief Snape allowed in his house. Whatever had happened, Malfoy had avoided Minerva's eye, and that was good enough for Severus, especially in a circumstance that resulted in Potter being hauled into the Headmaster's office.

Severus considered going back to Albus' office to watch the boy being disemboweled, but he decided to take the high road. He was an adult, after all, and delighting in the pain of others was a Potter activity. He was certainly a better man than that. Instead, he went down to the dungeons, an expression very close to a smile on his face.

*S*S*

Severus was livid.

"_SEEKER_?" He snarled at McGonagall, who was serenely stirring her tea.

"Yes," she said, clearly delighted with her current situation. "You should have seen him, Severus. Snatched a ball out of the air like he was born to do it."

"In his damn blood," Severus muttered, stabbing his carrots with a vehemence that was unnecessary for the soft-cooked vegetables.

Minerva grinned gleefully. "We're going to win the Quidditch Cup this year," she said, her tone dangerously close to sing-song.

Severus growled under his breath, but forced his attention to the students. It was best for everyone's safety if he stopped listening to the prattling Gryffindor. A quick scan of the room revealed that most of the Slytherins were exactly where they should be. The exception, not surprisingly, was Draco Malfoy, flanked by his two overgrown bodyguards, who was over by the Lions' table.

Draco was clearly in some kind of heated discussion with Potter. Snape raised his wand and casually flicked it toward the blond wizard, causing a shrill whistle to sound in the boy's ear. Draco looked toward the High Table, scowling, and Severus returned the look. Gesturing sharply toward the Slytherin table with his wand, the Potions Master was gratified to see that while the young man did not change his expression, he did slink to his seat, taking Crabbe and Goyle with him.

Severus waved his wand again, causing a small green piece of parchment to appear on Malfoy's plate. He wanted to know what the nonsense had been about, and he was in the mood for an interrogation.

The meal dragged on, and by dessert, Severus had lost any ability he had to ignore McGonagall's voice. "Excuse me," he said finally, deciding that he'd witnessed quite enough mastication for the evening. Checking one last time that his prefects appeared to have his students under control, he left the Great Hall, retiring to his office where he could take out his Potter-irritation on a stack of homework assignments.

He had worked for half an hour before there was a knock at the door and Draco Malfoy appeared. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Hence the invitation," Severus said dryly, pointing to one of the chairs facing his desk. "Have a seat."

Draco, looking as nervous as Severus had ever seen him, awkwardly perched on the edge of the chair. "Potter got on his broom on his own, I swear," the boy said, clearly unable to stop himself from defending his actions earlier in the day.

"I don't care about the broom," Severus waved off the explanation. "Although you should become a better liar. You've never been good at verbal deception."

"Oh," Draco said lamely. "I mean, whatever."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Your articulation needs work as well. However, I did not call you here to discuss your speech pattern. I want to know what you were talking to Potter about."

"Nothing," Draco shrugged. "I was just ragging on him."

Severus frowned. "Publicly? Surely Lucius taught you better than that."

Draco shifted in his seat. "I thought you didn't like him."

"We aren't talking about that," Severus shook his head. "And I've already addressed your inability to lie. So unless you would like to revisit the consequences for lying to me—

"No," Draco interrupted, and then fell silent.

Severus waited a moment, perhaps a fraction longer than he would have waited for any other student, before he cleared his throat. Draco, recognizing the implication of throat clearing from years of experience, muttered something Severus didn't quite catch.

"Pick your head _up_," Snape ordered. "You are not speaking to the floor, young man."

Draco shifted awkwardly again. "I challenged him to a duel. Tonight. In the trophy room."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "And what possessed you to do something so clearly idiotic?"

"I could beat Potter without breaking a sweat," Draco said haughtily.

"Of course you could. You've been surrounded by magic since you were born," Severus rolled his eyes. "Potter is basically a Muggle. There's no honor in beating someone with no chance of winning. Aside from that, Potter is Professor Dumbledore's Golden Boy. Why would you openly antagonize him?"

Snape recognized the rebellious look in the younger wizard's eyes and continued, not waiting for what he was sure would be an arrogant response. "Allow me to put it another way. Leave Potter alone, or you'll be spending time doing any number of disgusting chores for me. Understand?" He didn't care what Potter did with his evenings, but the safety implications of an unsupervised First Year duel could not be ignored.

Draco looked skeptical. "I don't know why you even care. He's a Gryffindor."

Severus pressed his lips together. He did _not_ care about Potter. Draco was clearly misinterpreting the point of the lecture. "I don't need to explain directives to you, young man. You will obey me because I am your Head of House. Even if I wasn't, I am your elder, and a long-time friend of your father. Therefore, you will do as I say and," he paused and enunciated the last three words, "Leave. Potter. Alone."

Draco looked mutinous, but had enough sense not to continue the conversation. Severus sent him back to his Common Room with strict orders not to leave the dormitory for any reason.

When the boy had left, Severus remained seated, still seething a bit over the idea that he cared whether or not Potter was harassed. He did not care. He would not start caring just because disembodied voices were coming to him in the night. When you start following the voices in your head, it was time for a visit to St. Mungo's.

It was not because he cared that he sent a House Elf for Harry Potter's student file. And it was not because he cared that he read it. If Lily wanted him to get to know the child, then she could just come back from the dead and make him.

**Student Name:** Harry James Potter

**Parent/ Guardian: **Petunia and Vernon Dursley (Guardians)

**Blood Status: **Father (James Potter)- Pure-Blood; Mother (Lily Potter nee Evans)- Muggle-Born

**Home Address: **4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey

**Evidence of Magical Ability:** 1987- accidental magic (apparition), memory charms implemented on adult Muggles at a Primary school; 1988- accidental magic (color charm), memory charms implemented on adult Muggles at a Primary school; 1991- accidental magic (vanishing charm), memory charms implemented on adult Muggles at a zoo

**Medical Record: **No Physical Examination on Record

There was a photo, taken of Potter at a park. Severus looked at it, taking in the skinny boy with green eyes and the lightning bolt scar. Those eyes looked nervous in that picture, maybe even afraid. They were surrounded by round glasses, taped across the bridge. Glasses. Just like his father.

Were his glasses taped now? Severus hadn't noticed that before. And the boy was so thin. And there were no medical records. Not just from school, there was no evidence that the brat had ever received medical treatment. How did he get glasses without going to a doctor?

It was getting late, but something in Severus' mind wouldn't rest. Luckily, he knew just where to find the Potter-spawn.

He strode toward the trophy room, through the deserted corridors. He'd give the little monster detention, he decided. For being out of bed and for being stupid enough to duel anyone in the first month of school.

He met Filch as he neared the room's entrance. "Students out of bed," the caretaker said in way of greeting.

"I'm aware," Severus said dryly. "I'll handle it."

"The caretaker is supposed to—

"I'll handle it," Severus cut off older man. Without waiting for confirmation, he headed toward the trophy room.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Severus heard a whisper through the door. It was too early in the school year for him to recognize the voice, but logic dictated that it was probably the most recent Weasley.

The Potions Master cast a silencing charm on the door and pulled it open, unheard by the students hiding in the shadows. In fact, he remained unheard until he ended the charm and slammed the door, casting _lumos_, and standing in the middle of a darkened room, his robes billowing in his own circle of light. The effect must have been impressive, because the Longbottom boy went so pale Severus thought he might faint, the frizzy-haired know-it-all, jumped so violently she might have been poked by a hot iron, and the Weasley kid fell over an old box in his haste to retreat.

But Severus wasn't watching the others too closely. He had his eyes trained on Potter, who shrank back when the door slammed, but stood his ground better than the other students.

"It is _long_ after curfew," Severus said, settling his voice into the deadly quiet tone that caused all right-minded children (and many adults) to shake in their shoes. "And you are _far_ from Gryffindor Tower."

"I'm sorry, sir," the girl spoke first, recovering from her shock.

"Your apologies are irrelevant to the moment, Miss Granger. What are you doing here?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Potter cut her off. "We wanted to see the Quidditch trophies, sir."

_Interesting_, Severus thought to himself. It would have been easy for the brat to throw Draco under the bus. It wouldn't have gotten him out of trouble, but the older Potter had always enjoyed bringing others down with him.

"I'm certain you've seen pictures," Severus sneered. "Your father certainly took enough with the blasted things."

The green eyes looked genuinely confused. "My father played Quidditch?"

Severus rolled his eyes. "You can cut the innocent act, Potter. I'm sure you've been regaled by stories of King James."

Potter was quiet, and Severus locked eyes with him for a split second before turning to the others. "The three of you, back to the Tower. Fifteen points from Gryffindor for being out of bed after curfew." He looked at the remaining child. "Potter, you come with me."

The liberated students gave Potter an apologetic look, but the dark-haired boy shook his head, waving them off a little with his hand.

Severus marched the younger wizard out of the room and to his office. "Sit," he ordered, pointing at the chairs in front of the desk before sitting in his own large chair. "Alright, Mr. Potter. Out with it."

"I'm sorry, sir… I don't understand." Potter squirmed a bit in his chair.

"The real reason you were out of bed tonight," Severus clarified, staring intently into the green eyes. "We both know that the trophy story was a ill-conceived ruse."

Potter shook his head. "It's true, sir."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Alright. If you insist." He looked at the other wizard for moment, even more interested in the boy's self-sacrifice than before. There were few children who sat in that chair and remained resolute in a lie. Draco cracked with just a look.

Snape wondered how far Potter would go to protect his enemy. Just how much of Lily did the child have in him?

"We both know that you are _lying_," Severus hissed. "But I have no interest in playing games with a First Year." He tapped his long fingers together briefly. "Currently, for being out of bed, you've lost five points for your House. In addition, your clear role as the ringleader in this nonsense has earned you detention with me, tomorrow night. If you continue this ridiculous charade, you will serve a week's worth of detention." Severus paused for a moment, seeing that the threat wasn't having a truthful effect. "And, your House will lose an additional 20 points."

Snape sat back, relishing the impossible position he'd put the boy in. Potter's instinct was clearly to keep his mouth shut, and personal punishment didn't seem to sway him in the other direction. But punishment for his entire House wasn't something the Gryffindor wanted either. Severus delighted in the internal war he saw on the boy's face.

"We were trying to find the Slytherin Common Room," Potter said suddenly. "We thought we'd play a joke on Malfoy."

Severus considered that for a moment. The Lion had decided to lie. How curious.

It was a bit like playing poker, Snape thought. Potter wasn't showing all his cards, and Severus saw no reason to show his.

"Just as I thought," the Professor said smoothly. "You'll start your week of detentions tomorrow night. Wear old clothing."

Severus waited for the child to protest that he had 'told the truth' and didn't deserve a week of detention. But the protest did not come. The brat became more interesting by the moment.

"You're dismissed," Snape said shortly, pointing at the door. "Directly to the Tower, or you can serve a second week of detention with Filch."

"Yes, sir," Potter nodded, and left the office, closing the door behind him.

Severus remained seated at his desk for a long time, pondering the puzzle that was Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

Severus sat at his desk, grading papers in the half hour before Potter reported for his first detention. Part of him wished that the boy would fail to show up. He'd never hoped for that before, knowing that it was important that students feared him enough to willingly present themselves for punishment. But this… He should have made the brat's detentions with Filch.

He'd had it again the night before. The dream. But this time the Lily clones were speaking in her voice, and they were doing that thing Lily used to do with her head, tilting it to the side and letting her red hair fall over one shoulder.

Severus was not sure that Lily knew what she was asking of him. His reservation at getting to know James Potter's progeny was not just the boy's parentage. It was that he was a student. For that matter, that he was a child in general. Or even, actually, a _person_ in general. Severus Snape did not… _warm_… to people.

The knock on the door startled him a bit more than Snape would admit to anyone who asked. It took him a moment to bring his mind back to the present and point his wand at the door, opening it to fly open, revealing Potter, standing in his school uniform.

"I believe I told you to wear old clothing," Severus said, beckoning the Gryffindor into the office and closing the door.

"I only have these, sir," Potter said quietly.

Severus narrowed his eyes. "_These_ as in the physical clothing that is currently on your body?"

"Uniforms," Potter said, not meeting his professor's eyes. "I don't have clothes other than uniforms."

Severus paused. "And why is that? Are you not capable of packing a trunk?"

"No, sir," Potter's face reddened slightly, and Severus frowned. This boy had stood before the Potions Master in all his robe-billowing glory. He had barely cracked under the pressure of the Professor's, admittedly, harsh questioning in the first Potions class of the year. He had thought quickly to protect others the night before. But now, when asked about his clothing, he was clearly incredibly uncomfortable.

"Well?" Severus fought to keep his voice level. He did not enjoy discussions in which he had to mine for information. That was where this feeling was coming from. Irritation that he had to keep prodding the boy. It was not that he knew, in the back of his mind, where this conversation was going. He knew, and he was going to have to link the information with the vision of Lily's child in a cupboard under the stairs…

"My clothes… from before… didn't really fit."

Severus' mind flashed to the photo from Potter's file. He had focused on the boy's weight and his glasses, but now he was seeing the clothing, obviously purchased long ago for a boy triple his size. He gritted his teeth. "Hand-me-downs aren't good enough for you, Potter?"

"They were fine, sir," the younger wizard said quietly. "I just didn't pack them."

"Well," Severus nodded shortly. "If you get squid ink on your clothing, don't come crying to me." He pointed at a vat full of water against one wall of the office. "There are 50 bottles on the floor," he pointed again. "You'll pull a squid out of the water and squeeze the ink sac into the bottle. If you are efficient, each squid should yield 3 bottles of ink. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," Potter was rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt.

Severus pressed his lips together and, without thinking about his actions too deeply, waved his wand, summoning a large leather apron. He tossed it at the boy and stalked back to his desk.

"Thank you, Professor."

Snape made a sort of noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, and was quiet until he dismissed the brat two hours later.

*S*S*

The next evening, Potter arrived, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.

"I see you are dressed appropriately," Snape said, pointing toward the squid tank. "Start where you left off yesterday."

"Thank you for the clothes, sir." Potter pulled the apron off the hook next to the vat.

"Potter, you are _wearing_ work clothes, there is no need to cover them."

The boy looked embarrassed, but donned the apron anyway. He looked for a moment like he wanted to explain his actions, but decided against it and sat down.

Two hours of silence began.

Severus had not sent the boy a set of used clothing this afternoon because he had any interest in the child being comfortable or avoiding ruining his clothing. The brat certainly had the money to buy casual clothing, he had just neglected to do so. Obviously, Potter expected everything to be done for him. Well, that was the last thing Snape was doing for the entitled Gryffindor.

*S*S*

The third night was an evening of silent flobberworm chopping.

As was the fourth.

*S*S*

"Merlin's teeth! Potter!" Severus grabbed the boy by the back of his shirt and pulled hard, yanking Potter back from the cauldron that was overflowing with the potion Snape had been working on for the last hour. The fluid bubbled over and spread quickly, searing holes in the lab table. Severus pointed his wand at the mess and vanished it before it could do more damage.

"What is that?" Potter asked, picking himself up off the floor where he'd stumbled when Snape had pulled him back.

"Fire-proofing solution," Severus said, inspecting the burned table. "At least it was the base. Obviously, left in that state, it would not be ingestible."

"Probably a pretty good way to kill someone," the younger wizard observed.

Snape's lips twitched. "Indeed."

"Is it… common for it to… freak out like that?"

Severus snorted. "More common than I'd like." He cleared his throat. "Those cauldrons won't scrub themselves," he gestured at Potter's current project.

Snape watched the boy go back to work and replayed the conversation in his mind. A perfectly civil conversation with James Potter's son.

*S*S*

The last night of Potter's detention, Severus took the boy with him into the Forbidden Forest to look for ingredients.

"Move from my side, and you'll be spending the rest of the term in detention. Understand?"

Potter nodded vigorously, "Yes, sir." The green-eyed boy fell into step beside his teacher as they ventured into the forest. "What are we looking for, Professor?"

Snape wondered if he'd sentenced himself to two hours of talking. "_We_ are not looking for anything. _I _am looking for hellebore. _You_ are doing your best to be quiet and avoid doing something that will get you killed. Or arrested."

Severus was sure he saw the brat smile, but ignored it. The excursion was detention, not a garden party.

"What do you use hellbore for?" Potter asked, skipping a little to keep up with Snape's longer legs.

"To poison obnoxious children," Snape replied, reaching into the pocket of his robes and pulling out a sprig of the dried plant. "If you insist on talking incessantly, make yourself useful. This," he held up the hellebore, "is what it looks like."

"Okay," Potter said affably. "It's not really poison though, right?"

Severus gave an irritated sigh. "Hellebore is primarily used in Draught of Peace. You will learn to brew it for your Potions O.W.L.. If you make it that far."

"O.W.L.?"

Snape looked down at the boy. "You honestly have no idea what is going on in this world, do you?"

As soon as he said it, Severus regretted it. Getting to know Potter was one thing, but the comment seemed dangerously close to compassion.

"My relatives… they don't believe in magic," Potter said, looking at the foliage along the path with an intensity Severus was certain didn't relate to Herbology.

"Petunia always was an idiot," Snape said, sealing his realization that his brain was no longer attached to his mouth.

Potter looked up at him with Lily's eyes. "You know Aunt Petunia?"

Severus glared at his companion, trying to determine what kind of biting remark he could use to respond to such a question. But he fell victim to the eyes. "We were acquainted," he said vaguely. "Are you looking or not?"

"Yeah," Potter said, looking back at the ground. Severus cleared his throat, and the Gryffindor colored a bit. "I mean, yes, sir."

Severus nodded, even though the brat wasn't looking at him. They worked in silence for several minutes, and Potter even managed to find two plants. Perhaps the boy wasn't an idiot.

"Your Aunt… how did she explain that your mother was a witch?"

The younger wizard didn't look up. "She didn't. She just said my parents were freaks, and my dad was a drunk that killed them both in a car crash."

Severus was quiet again for a while, mostly because he was fighting the urge to put his hands around Petunia Evans' skinny neck. Not that he had any problem with James Potter being labeled a drunk. In fact, he wished he'd thought of that propaganda campaign. But the idea that Lily was a freak…

"Professor?"

Severus shook himself out of his thoughts and turned his attention to his young charge. "What?"

"I found one, but there's something silver on it." Potter held up a few leaves he'd harvested.

"Potter!" Severus snatched the hellebore from the boy's hand. "You don't touch things you don't recognize," he chastised. "Especially here! That's the kind of dunderheaded action that could cost you a limb."

"Sorry," the Gryffindor looked at the silver substance. "Is it poisonous?"

"No," Severus said, inspecting the leaves. "But you didn't know that. Use your head." _Unicorn blood_, Severus thought to himself. He supposed it was too much to hope that an unicorn had accidentally injured itself in the Forest.

"What is it?"

"Nothing important," Severus said shortly, tucking the leaves into his robe pocket. "It's time to return to the castle." He started back toward Hogwarts, but stopped when he noticed Potter was not at his side. "Potter! What did I say about staying with me?"

"There's more of that silver stuff over here!" The boy was off the path, looking at the ground. "Are you sure—

Severus grabbed the brat by his upper arm and hauled him back on the path. "We're going back to the castle. _Now_. Clearly, your detentions this week have not encouraged you to learn obedience." He started marching the boy out of the Forest. "Perhaps 500 lines of 'I will obey my professors and the rules of Hogwarts' will teach the lesson more clearly."

Severus gritted his teeth. Idiot child gallivanting around when there was something tearing up unicorns in the Forest. He wasn't sure what he was thinking, taking Potter with him tonight. Harvesting hellebore could have waited until he didn't have an audience. Why had he done that?

"I'm sorry," Potter said, skipping a little to avoid being dragged. "It just seemed like it shouldn't be there—

"_You_ shouldn't have been in the middle of it," Severus ground out, as they reached the castle. "My office. Immediately." He released the boy's arm and pointed down the corridor before striding off in the direction of the dungeons.

Potter hadn't been in danger in the Forest. Unicorn blood was, as he had said, not poisonous. So why did he feel this way? Like the fact that the brat _could_ have been in danger because he wasn't _listening_ was the end of the world. Severus glanced at his pocket watch. It was barely nine o'clock. He had an hour, maybe two to make Potter sorry he hadn't stayed close during their outing. And that he'd touched something he didn't recognize. And that he had James Potter's hair.

*S*S*

"You bought him a broom," Severus glared at Minerva over dinner the next night.

"Yes," McGonagall said happily, filling her goblet. "Fastest on the market."

"For a boy who has been on a broom once in his life," Severus said skeptically, his frown deepening.

"If it will make you feel better, Severus, you may check the safety charms," Minerva took a bite of snap peas.

"I don't care if Potter skins his knee," Severus snorted.

"Only if he dies, I'd imagine," Minerva smiled knowingly.

"It would be a significant amount of paperwork," Severus said dryly. He stood, tossing his napkin on his chair, and walked, in a way he hoped was casual, toward the Gryffindor table.

"Potter!" he snapped, not sure what he was going to say before he said it. "Detention! Immediately after dinner."

"Sir?" Lily's eyes looked up at him in confusion.

"Are you questioning me, Mr. Potter?" Severus glared at the boy.

"No, sir," Potter shook his head.

"Good. Bring your new… gift." He stalked out of the Great Hall to his office, clearing his desk of all papers and writing utensils.

Potter-spawn arrived sooner than he anticipated, but his irritation over Minerva's decision to let the boy play the most dangerous sport in the Wizarding world as a reward for doing something stupid and dangerous made him even shorter with the brat than usual.

"I believe I said _immediately_ after dinner," Severus snapped when Potter came through the door, carrying his new Nimbus.

"I came as fast as I could, Professor," the younger wizard stood awkwardly inside the door.

"I doubt that," Severus said, snapping his fingers and pointing to his cleared desktop. "What are you waiting for? Put it there."

If Potter was surprised by the order, he didn't show it. He carefully placed the broom on Severus' desk, then stood back, his thumb nail making its way between his teeth.

"Don't chew your nails," Severus said, looking at the Nimbus. "It's common."

"Yes, sir."

Severus didn't look up to see if the boy obeyed. Instead, he pulled out his wand and started running every safety test he could think of. "You just had to have the fastest broom in the world, didn't you, Potter?"

"No, sir," Potter said softly. "I swear, I didn't know… I didn't ask for it."

"Let me assure you, that had you been in my House, you would have sooner earned hours of menial labor than a spot on the Quidditch team for your little stunt."

"Is that what Malfoy got, then?"

Severus glared at the brat. "That is hardly your concern. _You_ had no business on that broom."

"I'm sorry, sir," Potter said quietly. "But… if Professor McGonagall didn't care… why do you?"

Severus's glare deepened. The nerve of the little brat! Without thinking, Severus snatched the broom off the desk and strode toward the door. "Come with me," he barked, not looking at the younger wizard before walking purposefully out into the corridor and up the stairs.

"Where are we going?" Potter asked, trying to keep up. "Sir?"

"I'm taking you to the Forest so I can cut out your insolent tongue and use it in my next batch of Shrinking Solution." Severus rolled his eyes. "Now be quiet. I want your tongue well-rested."

They walked out to the pitch in silence. When they reached the middle, Severus stopped and held out the Nimbus. "Fly once, _slowly_ around the pitch."

"Really?"

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Young man, you've been given an order." Severus snapped his fingers and pointed at the other end of the pitch. "Go."

Harry nodded, and mounted his broom, rising into the air. Severus crossed his arms, and watched the boy take off down the length of the open field, watching how Potter handled the deathtrap toy. He had to admit, no matter how it vexed him, that the boy was a natural on a broom. Just like his father.

"Again," Severus said, when Potter touched down beside him. "Faster. Watch the turn."

Potter took off again, going much faster than Severus thought was necessary. "Damn it, boy," Snape hissed. "Not _that_ fast." He watched the brat take the turn at the end of the pitch at a break-neck speed, rolling nearly onto his side.

"I said 'faster'! Not 'suicidal'!" Severus growled, when Potter came closer. "Dismount! Immediately!"

"I wasn't going that fast!" Potter protested, and Severus snatched the broom from him.

"You are not furthering your case with backtalk, young man. You may be a… passable… flyer, but you are not experienced enough to be flying at that speed." He held up the broom. "This is a dangerous, ridiculous game." He handed the broom back to the boy. "Again. _Slower_."

Potter did not fly slower. Severus made him fly a dozen times around the pitch, and every time, his heart leapt into his throat.

"You are an obnoxious, danger-magnet, disobedient brat," Snape growled, almost yanking the boy from his broom after his last lap. "I should pull you off the team."

"You can't do that!" Potter looked horrified.

Severus pressed his lips together. "I suggest, young man, that you do not presume to tell me what I can and cannot do."

"Everyone plays!" Potter exclaimed, and Severus wondered, briefly, how he had gotten into an argument with the First Year.

"That is not strictly true," Snape reasoned. "However, I understand that you are engaging in emotional hyperbole." He narrowed his eyes at the younger wizard. "You may play the first game. But any nonsense, and I'll have you in detention every Saturday until the end of the season."

Potter looked at him oddly. "If it's so dangerous, sir, why do you let your House play?"

Severus scowled. "We are not talking about—

"I know," Potter interrupted. "But… never mind."

Severus glared at the top of the child's bowed head. Of all the cheek! "Five points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter, for interrupting a Professor. You had better keep a civil tongue in your head or I'll hex it out."

Potter looked like he wanted to say something, but stayed silent. Severus nodded briskly and pointed toward the castle. "It's time for you to get ready for bed."

"It's early!"

Severus glared at the brat. "It was not a request, Potter. Bed. Now!"

He watched with satisfaction as the boy scurried away. He was certainly not going to fight with an eleven-year-old. He gave mandates and consequences. That was his role.

*S*S*

Severus rarely ran. He strode. He paced. He walked in a purposeful manner. But when he heard the troll's roars from the washroom upstairs, he barely met Minerva's eyes before taking off, running up the stairs with her.

"Quirrell!" He barked as they ran by the Defense professor. "Make yourself useful!"

When they burst through the door, wands drawn, Snape's eyes fell on the troll, lying on the ground, before snapping up look at the children standing in the middle of the ruined bathroom. "Potter," he growled, taking a step toward the boy, but Minerva cut him off.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" the other Professor scolded. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

"Because Potter fancies himself a savior," Severus spat, reaching out and latching onto the boy's upper arm. "Thought you'd be the hero, didn't you?"

"Please, sir," Granger appeared from the shadows. "They were looking for me."

Severus barely heard the explanation. He was focused on not killing the green-eyed child standing beside the troll. Killing him would, obviously, go against the idea that he did not want the brat to die. Even so, the terror Severus had felt upon entering the room was off-putting, and it was easier to change the feeling into anger.

"Let's go," Snape pulled on Potter's arm, marching him out into the hallway, ignoring Minerva's protests and the knowledge that there was no reason, in the minds of his witnesses, as to why he was singling out Potter.

"Sir, we really were just looking for Hermione—

"I don't care _why_ you were there," Severus growled, pushing his companion through his office door and slamming it behind them. "You saw a mountain troll and you went TOWARD IT!" He pointed at the chairs facing the desk. "Sit."

"We had to save—

"Silence!" Severus snapped. "I don't want to hear another word out of you until I give permission." He went around the desk, and leaned forward, planting his palms on the wood. The boy before him was quiet, miraculously, and Snape attempted to get ahold of his temper. Nothing in the world infuriated him like this child.

"There is no excuse," he said quietly, looking at the boy, who was staring at the floor. "_Look_ at me when I'm speaking to you." He waited until Potter's eyes met his before he continued. "There is no excuse for your behavior tonight. You were out of bounds, failing to follow a direct order, and then you purposefully stayed in a dangerous situation. You should be glad your mother is no longer with us, young man. She would be sorely disappointed in your blatant disregard for your life!"

Lily's eyes blinked. "You knew my mother?"

Severus paused. "I thought I told you to be silent."

"Yes, sir," Potter nodded, but the question he'd ask didn't leave his eyes.

Severus pressed his lips together. "Your mother and I were friends. Many years ago. Which is why I am certain that if you had pulled this kind of stunt, you would be facing stricter consequences than the two weekends of detention you will serve with me." Snape glared at the younger wizard. "When I'm through with you, you won't dream of doing something this foolhardy again."

"Hermione was going—

Severus's glare deepened. "You were incredibly lucky tonight, you idiotic child! You should never have been in that washroom. Barring that, you should have turned back when you saw the TROLL!" He circled the desk. "Make it three weekends of detention. And if you _ever_ put yourself in a situation like this again, I'll see to it that you won't play Quidditch for the foreseeable future. Do I make myself clear?"

Potter dropped his eyes. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Severus nodded once. "Your mother did not give you life so you could waste it." He went back around to the other side of his desk. "You're dismissed. Go directly to your dormitory."

Potter nodded, and stood, starting toward the door before he stopped. "Sir?"

Snape blew air from his nostrils in frustration. "What, Potter?"

"Why do you hate me?"

Severus was quiet, stunned silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was level, measured. "I do not _hate_ you, Mr. Potter. I _hate_ that you are a disobedient. I _hate_ that your impulsive, rule-breaking behavior could have cost you your life today." He looked into Potter's eyes. "Let me make something clear to you. There are many people in our world who will fall over themselves to give you everything, but that kind of fawning comes with unreasonable expectations. They expect you to be a savior." He looked seriously at the younger wizard. "I have only one expectation of you, young man. You will follow the rules. Do not expect any fawning from me. You will do as I tell you, or there will be consequences."


	4. Chapter 4

Severus Snape ran a hand over his face. Blasted boy…

There had been something, for just a moment… if Severus was honest with himself, it had been more that one moment. There had been several moments, over the last weeks, during which he had felt something… less than hatred… for Potter. And while he tried to convince himself that it was just his love for Lily, he suspected that the feeling of protectiveness had little to do with the boy's eyes, and more to do with the fact that he was so little like his father.

He looked across the lab to where the Gryffindor was slicing Flobberworms. The brat had been quiet for the last two hours, ever since Snape had set him to his task.

"Professor?"

Severus groaned internally. He'd clearly run out of Quiet-Potter time. "You are in detention, Mr. Potter. Unless you are injured, I do not wish to hear your voice."

Potter nodded, and returned to his slicing.

Severus did not feel guilty for being sharp with the boy. He felt guilty for a great many things, and this was certainly not one of them. The nagging feeling he got as he returned to the papers on the lab table was not guilt. And it was not a desire to talk to the boy. Snape had no interest in whatever prattling the child had in mind.

"Come here," Severus said suddenly, turning on his stool.

Potter looked surprised, but put down the knife he'd been using and came around to Snape's side of the table.

"Gloves," Severus said, tapping the work surface meaningfully. He waited while Potter pulled off the plastic gloves and then immediately started picking at his cuticles. "Stop that," Snape admonished. "Stand still and tell me what you wanted to say earlier."

"It wasn't important, sir." The child was clearly uncomfortable.

"It was important enough for you to bring it up," Severus said, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Out with it."

"It's just… the first Quidditch game is next Saturday."

"You interrupted my work to inform me of an entry on the school calendar?" Severus lowered his chin slightly, narrowing his eyes at the younger wizard.

"No, sir. It's… I have detention on Saturday."

Severus nodded. "You do, indeed." He crossed his arms over his chest, tapping one long index finger on his elbow. "Your point?"

"I was just wondering if we could do my detention before or after the game," the boy said, the words coming out in a rush.

Severus was silent. The _nerve_ of the brat. How dare he ask such a thing? The boy deserved every bit of the consequence he'd been given, and Severus was not at all inclined to let a First Year run his own discipline schedule.

Snape looked at Potter. What was the brat doing with his eyes? Was he actually _trying_ to make the Potions Master feel guilty? Severus did _not_ feel guilty, especially over a well-earned punishment.

"Saturday morning. 7 o'clock." The words came out of Severus' mouth before he could stop them. Traitorous tongue. "Do not expect me to be so… flexible again. When you break the rules, you pay the penalty."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, Professor." Potter looked a little light-headed.

Severus frowned and glanced at his watch. "It's time for lunch," he said, looking carefully at the younger wizard. "Potter, you look like you've taken leave of your senses."

"No, sir. I just… I didn't eat that much this morning."

"Unacceptable," Severus said shortly, standing. "You knew perfectly well that you were going to be down here until lunch. You should have planned ahead of time." His frown deepened. "Do you make a habit of skipping meals, Mr. Potter?"

Potter shook his head. "No, sir."

"Did you feel ill?"

"No, sir," Potter shifted on his feet. "I was just nervous. About asking you. About Saturday."

Severus felt a certain amount of satisfaction at that piece of information. It seemed, regardless of his rapidly changing… feelings… about the boy, the Potions Master could still strike fear into the brat's heart. However, the feeling of superiority was quickly replaced by something else.

"What, Mr. Potter, did you envision my response to be?"

Potter looked at the floor. "I thought you'd say no. And maybe lecture about consequences."

Severus was unable to hide his smirk. "And this worst-case scenario kept you from eating? You didn't think, perhaps, that I would string you up by your toenails? Perhaps beat you with a stick?"

Potter grimaced. "You can't do that? Right?"

"Beat you?" Severus raised an eyebrow. "You'll wish I'd done so after your detention on Saturday. You may be too tired to play your infernal game." He looked at the child. Severus knew well how Lily's parents had handled recklessness in their children, and he'd once witnessed a howler sent from Mr. Potter to James, promising a good spanking when he saw his son. Severus couldn't remember what the infraction was, but he remembered feeling a decided sense of happiness at that moment, listening to his enemy receive the dressing-down.

Yes, he knew, probably, how the green-eyed brat's parents would have handled the troll incident. But he was not the child's father, thank Merlin.

"Lunch," he said, refocusing on the issue at hand.

"Professor?" Potter turned to go, and then stopped nervously. Did this child do everything with a sense of doom? "Never mind."

"Sit," Severus ordered, pointing at the stool he had been sitting on for the last two hours.

"Sir?" The brat looked at his professor.

Severus regarded Potter seriously. "We have already established that I cannot trust you to maintain proper eating habits when your Gryffindor-addled mind is distracted by something as world-stopping as a _question_," he said dryly. "Therefore, we will deal with whatever is running around in the empty space between your ears before we go to lunch."

"What if we miss lunch?"

Severus scowled. The brat was clearly feeling a bit too comfortable. "Perhaps I do not have the time next Saturday to rearrange your detention."

Potter's eyes snapped to his professor's. "I was just wondering," the boy blushed a little, "if you… had pictures of her. You know. Since you were friends."

Severus struggled, for a moment, to breathe. "Your mother?"

Potter nodded. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"Wait here," Severus said shortly, and, trying not to give much credence to the clenching feeling in his chest. He went into his private rooms, and then to his desk, removing the panel that hid his pictures of Lily.

When he returned to the lab, Potter was sitting, twisting a little on his stool.

"I see you can follow instructions," Severus said dryly, seating himself across the lab table. He looked at the photos in his heads. "These photos are many years old, obviously," he said slowly, not sure what he wanted to say. Unable to think of anything, he pushed the pictures across the table and watched as Potter took them, carefully, as if he were handling ancient documents, and stared at their subject.

"I really do have her eyes," the younger wizard said softly.

Severus froze for a moment. "You've never seen her." It wasn't a question. Snape had been sure, against all evidence, that Petunia must have shown the boy a picture of his mother. But it appeared that Potter's childhood was more desolate than he'd previously thought.

Potter shook his head. "No," he said quietly. He was still staring at the first photo. "She was beautiful."

"Yes," Severus said automatically. He was amazed how dulled his powers of control had become in the years without constantly shielding himself from Voldemort's scrutiny. "Yes, she was."

Severus watched the boy has he looked at that top photo. He made no move to flip through the rest of them, seemingly frozen, just staring. It was minutes before Snape realized that the boy was struggling to keep from crying.

"Potter," he said quietly, seized suddenly with the reality of not only Lily's eyes filling with tears but the idea that Lily's son was in pain. The boy didn't respond, and Severus felt a bit of panic rise in his chest. "_Harry_."

The use of his first name broke the boy out of his trance. "I'm sorry, sir."

Severus shook his head, and carefully taking the photos from the child's hands. Drawing his wand, he tapped the top of the stack, a picture of Lily, at about fifteen, laughing hysterically about something off camera. He immediately tapped the tabletop, and a copy of the photo appeared. Severus slid the picture over to the younger wizard. "Take that for now," he said, with a gentleness he didn't know he possessed. "You can see the rest another time."

Harry made a movement like he didn't want to let the stack go, and Severus stayed the boy's hand. "_Listen to me_," he said firmly. "You may see the rest another time."

*S*S*

Severus glared at his injured ankle. Damn overgrown mutt. It would have made sense to set up the trials BEFORE adding the three-headed dog, but he could hardly expect rationality from a man who brought a dangerous magical item to a school of unpredictable children.

Speaking of unpredictable children, Potter had been actively avoiding him. The boy had went out of his way to not cross his professor's path, had refused to look at the older wizard during Monday's Potions class, and had spent Wednesday's class in the Hospital Wing, and had had a miraculous reoccurrence of whatever was wrong with him on Friday as well.

Severus pulled his black sock over the wound. It was early Saturday morning, and he still wasn't sure what he was going to have Potter do when he arrived at 7. But he was certain that before the boy's detention was over, he would have an explanation for the brat's behavior. It was one thing for Potter to feel awkward about the emotion he'd showed to his professor. It was another thing to fake illness to miss class, and Severus was certain that is what the child had done.

Potter arrived before Severus had managed to come up with something clever, and so he fell back on his standby. Lines.

_When faced with a dangerous situation, I will remove myself and find a competent adult._

"100 times," Severus said, tapping the parchment he'd set on the lab table in the classroom. "Legibly."

Potter just nodded, not meeting his professor's gaze, and started to work. Severus watched him, making a note that the child desperately needed instruction and practice with a quill. The lines took the boy a little over and hour, and upon glancing at the completed work, Severus wiped the board clean and wrote a new sentence.

_I will not feign illness to avoid attending classes._

Severus watched as the Gryffindor read the sentence, then dropped his eyes at to the tabletop. "No protests?"

"No, sir," Potter said quietly.

"You admit, then, that you were not ill during my class this week?"

Potter shifted on his stool, but didn't look up. "Yes, sir."

"Look at me," Severus said, crossing his arms and leaning against the lab table. He waited until Potter dragged his eyes, with what looked like considerable effort, to meet the Potion Master's. "Explain," he said, keeping his voice level.

Potter bit his lip. "I don't know."

Severus frowned. "That, young man, is a coward's answer, and an untrue one at that. _Speak_."

The younger wizard winced. "I thought I wanted to see her," he said quietly, his eyes drifting to Snape's nose, avoiding the piercing gaze. "But I think maybe I didn't."

Severus cleared his throat. "Ignoring loss does not make it easier. Your mother deserves to be remembered," he said firmly. "I shouldn't have let you leave in the emotional state you were in. You were obviously distraught."

Potter's eyes met the professor's again, this time with a spark of annoyance. "I'm not a little kid."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You are certainly not a young man who faces his obstacles head-on. What would you call someone who plays sick and stays in bed to avoid uncomfortable situations?"

Potter blushed, and Snape nodded, as if he'd received confirmation of his point. "You and I, Mr. Potter, need to come to an understanding."

"An understanding?" The boy frowned.

"Unless you would rather spend the next few hours cementing the previous lesson?" Severus gestured to the line that was still on the board. He waited while the boy shook his head. "I thought not."

Snape sat across the lab table. "It appears that you lack someone in your life to whom you are accountable."

"My aunt and uncle—

Severus held up a hand. "I'm not talking merely of obedience. Although you would do well to learn that as well. I am talking about someone to set rules and consequences that not only assure your positive behavior, but also your safety and success. I would imagine," he said, raising an eyebrow, "that if I wrote your relatives of your interaction with the troll, there would be little, if any, follow up. Am I correct?"

Potter shrugged. "They don't really understand that stuff."

"They do not take responsibility for your upbringing," Severus said firmly. "You might as well have been raised by wolves for the first eleven years of your life, and it stops now."

"What are you talking about?" Potter looked warily at his professor. Snape gave him a sharp look, and he quickly tried to cover his insolent tone. "Sir."

"Your behavior is showing a dangerous trend," Severus locked eyes with the younger wizard. "I cannot allow it to continue."

"Excuse me, sir," Potter shifted nervously. "I'm not sure what that means."

Severus pressed his lips together. "It means, Mr. Potter, that you will answer to me for all your choices. Since you do not possess fit guardians, I will serve in that capacity during the school year." He gritted his teeth. Was he really doing this? Committing to actually care for the brat?

Potter looked alarmed. "Does Professor Dumbledore—

"It was his idea," Severus lied smoothly. It wasn't a lie, not really. The old man _had_ asked Severus to look after the boy. It was Severus who wanted to keep such a thing a secret from the child, but clearly that was not working. Potter needed someone to take him to task when he stepped out of line.

"Really, Professor, I don't need—

"Clearly, you do," Severus said decidedly. "You fight mountain trolls, you skip meals, and you seem to have no trouble wandering the corridors at night. You, my boy, need someone to answer to."

Potter looked discontented, but didn't protest again. Severus nodded, and stood, his sock catching on a rough spot on the leg of the lab table. He tried to cover the bite quickly, but he wasn't fast enough to keep it from the younger wizard's gaze.

"You're hurt?" The boy asked the question curiously, yet Severus found himself inordinately annoyed.

"None of your concern," he snapped, and went to the door.

"It looks like a bite," Potter said, and Severus narrowed his eyes. The brat was thinking something, and that was never good.

"And why would that be meaningful to you?" Severus asked, raising an eyebrow.

"No reason," the boy lied badly, and Severus crossed the space between them in two strides. Crossing his arms, he glared down at the child.

"Speak," he ordered.

Harry shifted on his feet. "I swear—

"Don't," Severus interrupted sharply. "Don't you dare lie to me," he bent so he was looking right into the child's eyes, almost nose to nose with the boy. "What kind of nonsense are you trying to cover?"

Potter looked even more uncomfortable. "Hagrid… he said that Fluffy was guarding something… Did he bite you?"

"_Fluffy_," Severus rolled his eyes, and then another thought occurred to him. "How did you know that the creature was in the building?" It hardly seemed like something Hagrid would have mentioned in casual conversation, but, then again, the man sometimes suffered from irrational social behavior.

Harry blushed. "We were running—

Severus held up his hand. "Never mind, I don't want to know. It might be best if we didn't dredge up past acts that would land you in detention." He regarded the boy solemnly. "Suffice to say that there will be no more running in this castle, especially after hours from a place you shouldn't have been."

"Yes, sir," Harry picked at his nails.

"In terms of _Fluffy_, you will not encounter the animal again, nor will you do any kind of nosing around concerning the reason for its presence." Severus dipped his chin a bit, meeting the boy's eyes. "Do I make myself clear?"

Potter looked at his professor's now-covered ankle. "Yes," he said reluctantly.

Severus nodded, not at all satisficed that Harry would obey. However, he had more pressing matters to attend to. "Come here," he said, pulling his wand from his sleeve.

Potter eyed him warily. "Why?"

"So I can chop off your toes and hang them around my neck as souvenirs," Severus said drying, snapping his fingers and pointing to a spot directly in front of him. "Come here."

Potter rolled his eyes and went to stand before the Potions Master.

"Hold out your arms," Severus said, tapping his wand against Harry's elbows and wrists. Then he gestured for the First Year to put his arms down and repeated the process on the boy's knees, and then on his head.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing to amputate," Severus said. "Did you eat before you came down here this morning?"

"Breakfast isn't until later than I had to be here…"

"So, 'No'," Severus frowned and checked his pocket watch. "Go to the Tower, retrieve your broom, and come to my office." When Potter didn't move immediately, he snapped his fingers again and pointed at the door. "Go."

The professor watched the boy scurry out of the room, and went into his office, sitting heavily in his desk chair. He snapped his fingers and summoned an elf, ordering breakfast for Potter.

The Gryffindor reappeared sooner than Severus had expected him. Snape could tell by the boy's breath that he had run the entire way, but he didn't comment. "Give me your broom, and sit," he ordered, pointing at one of the chairs in front of his desk. "Eat your breakfast." Severus gestured at the plate of eggs and other breakfast foods that sat on the desk.

While the boy obediently ate, Severus ran another round of safety charms on the broom. Since the brat obviously couldn't be trusted, he put a top speed limit on the death trap, as well as additional stabilizers. "Being on the Quidditch team is not a license to do stupid tricks," Snape lectured, as Harry finished his meal. "I've seen the nonsense that happens on that pitch, and you will do nothing but fly at an appropriate speed and catch that infernal little ball. You will not do any of the following," he looked at the younger wizard. "Stand on your broom. Hang off your broom. Flip your broom over so you are flying upside-down. Do any kind of maneuver that could cause you to fall off your broom. Do we understand each other?"

Harry smiled a little, and Severus scowled. "This is not a game, young man."

"It kind of is…" Potter ventured, and Snape's scowl deepened.

"Perhaps you do not need to play today," Severus glared at his self-inflicted charge.

"Sorry," Potter apologized quickly. "It was just a joke."

"You'll be thinking about jokes when you're scrubbing cauldrons until your fingers blister," Severus hissed, leaning across the desk. "Which is what will happen if there are any shenanigans on the pitch today. Clear?"

"Yes, sir." Potter looked down at his empty plate and Severus nodded.

Snape knew he shouldn't be worrying about the stupid game. The chances that Potter would die on the Quiiditch pitch were slim. But there was something, over these last weeks, that had changed his intended goal. His instinct was no longer merely to keep the boy alive, but to ensure his safety in everyway. Something in his soul that felt that if something happened to the brat, the world would come to an end.

Blasted boy.


End file.
